


Good Morning, Sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, grumpy figure skaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Otabek and Yuri both agree: Mornings suck. But having another person share tea with at the crack of dawn might make them a little easier.





	Good Morning, Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [my tumblr.](http://metaandpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/169565758763/storylover92-lazuritecrown-headcanon-none) A (very) quick drabble I fired off one night, inspired by [lazuritecrown's](http://lazuritecrown.tumblr.com/post/169072444369/headcanon-none-of-these-two-are-morning-people) wonderful fanart.

The worst part about St. Petersburg is the 04:00 alarm. In Almaty, Otabek can sleep in until six, skate three hours at the rink, and never see another soul, but in Russia there is an army of skaters that must be organized by coaches and schedules and rules—the most important being that any senior who doesn’t want to wake up at the crack of dawn clearly doesn’t want gold.

When Yuri’s alarm blasts punk music across the quiet of the still-night, Otabek presses his face into the cool embrace of his pillow and prays that his dream—its pleasantness still pressing like cat’s fur against the sharp edge of consciousness—will suck him under for good so he never has to move. Nothing he’s tried has ever made it easier to unfold himself from the warm cocoon of a duvet and face a day that, as far as he’s convinced, hasn’t actually begun—not sleeping in his skating clothes, not keeping a thermos of coffee by the bed, not anything.

Yuri’s alarm blasts out again—04:07. Otabek hears a curse come from somewhere to his left.

“Time to get up.”

Otabek can hear Yuri moving around, pulling open drawers, banging closed doors, and muttering to himself. Otabek listens to him cross the room, listens to the click of the latch on the bathroom door. The hiss of the faucet fills the apartment.

“Fuck, why did I let that dork keep me up so late?” Yuri mutters just loud enough for Otabek to hear through the door after the faucet goes off. Otabek smiles into the pillow.

The bathroom door creaks open. “Get your ass out of bed, Altin. Yakov won’t teach lazy bums, hero of Kazakhstan or not.”

“Yura,” Otabek whines, turning his head up from the pillow enough for the light streaming out of the bathroom to sting his still-closed eyes. “Americans would call this cruel and unusual.”

“Russians don’t believe in sissy things like that.”

The bed shifts as Yuri drops down onto it. He must be pulling on his pants. Otabek rolls over onto his back and entertains, for the briefest of moments, the possibility of getting up. The last tendrils of sleep clinging to his muscles convince him otherwise.

Then, something soft hits him in the face rather hard.

“Beka.” Another projectile hits his face and his hand jerks up to clutch it—Yuri’s shirt, he guesses.

“Wake.” The duvet is ripped away. Otabek instinctively curls into himself and onto his side, burying his face into the new and precious darkness.

“Up.” The bed dips again. Otabek feels Yuri’s knees settle on either side of him and then Yuri pulls the ball of clothes away from Otabek’s face. When Otabek turns to squint up at him, Yuri’s mouth is open wide in a yawn. Otabek can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up. The bathroom’s yours.”

“Fine.”

Yuri rolls off of Otabek and into his own ball on the other side of the bed, cradling his phone too close to his face as he scrolls through Instagram. Otabek stretches, flexing his wrists and his toes, before hauling himself out of bed and shuffling into the kitchen, where he clicks on the kettle and sets out two mugs, two tea bags, and two protein bars, which are disgusting, in his opinion, but which also require absolutely no energy to prepare.

“Don’t fall back asleep,” Otabek says when he makes his way back toward the bathroom, but Yuri’s phone has already gone dark in his hands and Otabek knows his eyes are closed underneath the golden mess of his hair. Otabek closes the bathroom door softly behind him and starts getting ready in silence. He walks back out into the kitchen again to steep the tea before getting dressed.

It’s 04:40 when he sits back down on the bed, a steaming mug in each hand. The first rays of predawn flicker behind the blinds on Yuri’s window, filling the room with blue light.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says, pressing a mug gently to Yuri’s cheek. Yuri opens one eye, closes it again, and stretches before slowly sitting up.

“Kill me,” Yuri mutters, taking his mug and resting his chin against Otabek’s shoulder.

Otabek slurps the hot liquid. “Not before I’ve had my tea.”


End file.
